


Counterclockwise

by orphan_account



Category: Firefly RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 06:16:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There’s a hum and a rustle, like Nathan’s making himself comfortable. Ten in the morning, so of course he’s not out of bed if he doesn’t have to be. Little habits and routines Adam’s picked up on over the years. “If I were there, I could entertain you in person. Or at least have hung out at the café while you were bench-pressing small planets, then kept you company on the way home.”





	Counterclockwise

**Author's Note:**

> for little_missmimi
> 
> Note from diana, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Pretty Lights](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Pretty_lights), which closed for financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Pretty Lights collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/prettylights/profile).

Nathan doesn’t give parenting advice, but he can be very helpful when it comes to seeing things from a kid’s point of view. Easily distracted, happy-go-lucky, prone-to-pouting Nathan. Makes it kind of funny when he asks about  _Adam_ ’s kids and what they’re doing these days.   
  
“Growing up.” That’s the first thing that comes to Adam’s mind these days. “Between the driving and the money, it’s insane. Then there’s Zoey going to college and making herself a  _Twitter_  account and God knows how many other ill-advised  _adult_  choices.”   
  
“Dude, I know that. We’re friends.”   
  
“On Twitter.” Flatly. Not wanting to think about how Nathan knows this and he doesn’t.   
  
“Yup.” Adam can just see Nathan earnestly bobbing his head. Like that makes it okay. “She only tweeted a few times,” and Adam recalls that at one point he would feel ashamed to know what  _tweeting_  meant, but it really is addictive, “so I don’t think she’s all that into it.”   
  
“That means everything’s peachy, now, doesn’t it? Knowing she’s making friends with older men online.”   
  
“Hel- _lo_ , I’m a  _family_  friend. And an older man who, unbeknownst to  _her_ , occasionally has wife-sanctioned sex with her dad, so are you  _seriously_  implying I would take advantage of one of your kids?” He sounds scandalized and amused, and Adam wants to snarl that of  _course_  that wasn’t what he meant and Nathan  _knows_  it, but Nathan’s just being deliberately difficult and trying to change the subject in his own lighthearted, much-too-charming, much-too-juvenile way. He can’t imagine Nathan ever raising kids of his own. He’s got one foot too firmly planted in his own childhood as it is.   
  
“You know what?” Nathan chirps, right on cue. “I have an idea. Let’s not talk about it. What’re you wearing?”   
  
“A suede thong and vibrating nipple clamps. I just got home from the  _gym_ ; what do you think I’m wearing?”   
  
“Something manly-smelling and form-fitting,” Nathan answers instantly, and Adam is sure that if he wasn’t on his beloved iPhone he’d be contemplatively twisting a phone cord between his fingers. “And maybe some stubble.”   
  
“Don’t be jealous. I didn’t laugh at you  _that_  hard when you tried to grow a beard for Castle.”   
  
“It was masculine scruff.”   
  
Adam just snorts. Rehashing a tried-and-true argument is a good palate-cleanser sometimes. Nathan’s an unfailingly good sport about this kind of thing. "If your character is such a stud, he shouldn't have needed to hide behind that...thing."   
  
"It was only for, like, two episodes and it was supposed to be a  _rakish_  kind of...thing." Nathan's word of the day. Adam remembers him trotting it out again and again, right up till Nate  _jumped_  him and rubbed that beard-thing on as much skin as he could.   
  
“Yeah, it was entertaining while it lasted.”   
  
There’s a hum and a rustle, like Nathan’s making himself comfortable. Ten in the morning, so of course he’s not out of bed if he doesn’t have to be. Little habits and routines Adam’s picked up on over the years. “If I were there, I could entertain you in person. Or at least have hung out at the café while you were bench-pressing small planets, then kept you company on the way home.”   
  
“Getting arrested for public indecency isn’t on my to-do list, sorry.”   
  
“Come on, hasn’t it ever been a fantasy of yours to get blown while you’re driving?”   
  
“Not since I saw  _Thinner_.”   
  
“Man, you are  _sour_  today.” He can just about hear those lips pushing into a sulky moue, though Nathan denies he sulks at all. “Okay, so maybe you can come over here sometime soon. Get your frustrations out. Call of Duty 4? Need for Speed? Guitar Hero, since you’ve joined the ranks of Metallica attendees in the over-forty crowd?”   
  
“Hey, now, Metallica is timeless.”   
  
“Or maybe you could just have a beer and I’d go down on you right there on the couch.” He sounds almost blasé about the idea, as if he’s only suggesting they meet for lunch, but it’s just a short step from hearing the suggestion to recalling the first time it ever came up. And how well  _that_  went over. Nathan, smiling broadly and getting on his knees, sucking and licking and making  _sounds_ —humming and moaning and never missing a beat, till Adam’s eyes were rolling back in his head.   
  
“Nathan, I—“   
  
“You’ve got the place to yourself, right?” Wheedling in that way only Nathan can.   
  
“Yeah.” Kids at school, Ami isn’t in, and if he didn’t have plans for the day he just might be tempted to back right on out of the driveway and get ready to brave L.A. traffic for Nathan’s sake. One hand curled around his phone, the other notching into the refrigerator’s handle and drawing open the door—way too early for anything alcoholic, even though Nathan proudly owns up to being a horrible influence. Adam takes a sensible bottle of Vitamin Water and plods towards the stairs.   
  
“Good. Now hurry up and get naked. I mean, if you’re all sweaty and gym-ish, you’re gonna want a shower anyway, so you might as well get really dirty first.” Never let it be said Nathan can’t be sensible, too.   
  
“That’s a killer opening line you’ve got there. Very sexy and original.”   
  
“Dude, I haven’t seen you in a while. Work with me here.”   
  
Adam doesn’t work with him in words. Half the time, it’s not the words that make the impression. It’s the motion of a bedroom door swung shut, shoes toed off at the foot of the bed, coolness of clean-scented pillowcases under his head. Eyes slipping shut as sun steals in over the bureau and the window seat; Adam’s shirt catches on the edge of it when he tosses it a little too hard towards the floor. “Maybe.”   
  
 _That_  just spurs another eager waterfall of Fillion-brand babbling. “I could bend over for you, let you do anything you like, nice and simple, nothing to worry about. Get your frustrations out. Get me facedown, just give it to me till I shut up, maybe? That’s what you’d want? I’d—”   
  
“Tell me something.” He keeps his voice slow-paced and contemplative, like he’s dissecting a densely-written tome instead of Nathan’s too-transparent motives. And it works. Nathan shuts up. ”Tell me,” Adam repeats, each syllable all gravelly deliberation, “what’re you doing right now? Just lying there in your pajamas, not touching at all?” His eyes drift closed, a small sound of disbelief huffing out of him. Slowing the pace before Nathan chatters himself into a frenzy again. “Nah. We both know you can’t keep your damn hands off anything.”   
  
“Like you’ve ever  _complained_.”   
  
“Like it’d take more than five minutes to make you come in your goddamn  _pants_.” Not that he’s wearing any. Voice low, Nathan’s answering titter sounding a little higher and shakier than before. “Bet you’ve got things all laid out, jug of Astroglide in arm’s reach and everything, just waiting to bring this up and pull me into it, hm?”  
  
“It doesn’t come in jugs, man. I’ve checked.” It’s hard to sound coy when you know your paper-thin cover’s been well and truly blown. “Fine. Maybe.”   
  
“Because lubing up your fingers and screwing yourself on them just isn’t the same when no one eyes knows you’re doing it, yeah?”   
  
No verbal response, just audible wetness and the hint of a hum.  _Sucking_. Showing instead of telling when Adam can’t even see him to begin with. One thing to Nate’s credit: he isn’t one to hesitate before getting down to business. “ _Christ_. Doesn’t take much for you, does it? Didn’t have to tell you anything, just already aching for it, but you’ve gotta have your audience. All slick now?”   
  
Garbled-murmured affirmative, wrapped up in the sound of shifting bedclothes; Nathan might as well have that wet-wide mouth around Adam’s damn  _cock_  for all the effect it has on him.   
  
“Already got your clothes off, don’t you? Woke up aching for it, just squirmed right out of ‘em.” Smoothly switching gears, changing tack without missing a beat: “Get your feet braced, get your legs open...so I’d be able to see everything, if I were over there right now.” Once or twice, talking Nathan up to an orgasm without even touching him, just standing at the foot of the bed and  _watching_. “You’re already hard, aren’t you?” It doesn’t need to be a question, but he likes hearing Nathan’s voice hitch when he tries to answer.   
  
And it does. Crystal-clear images of him lying face-up in the midst of twisted sheets and kicked-off blankets, skin touched with red. Hard, definitely, maybe fidgeting a little, but not touching just yet. “Y…yeah.” Whispering even though no one’s there to overhear, and there’s something of a roughness to it.  _Husked_. “Since I called you. Know you finish up at the gym around now, so…   
  
 _Ah_. “So you figured you’d recruit me.” Laughing, close-mouthed and deep-chested, skimming and scraping the backs of his neatly trimmed nails down the arch of his own ribs. “Don’t touch your cock.”   
  
Nathan starts to protest, but Adam talks over him before he can get a word out. “You’ve been holding off this long already; you can last a little longer.” A small sigh from the other end of the line, then nothing but silence—an all too rare occurrence of Nathan actually being  _patient_ , and  _that_ , Adam is more than happy to reward. “Put a finger up inside yourself— _slowly_ , Nate, just ease it in.” He’d be breathing a little harder at that—and yeah, Nathan hisses in a sharp breath on the other end of the line. Adam can see him, flashbulbs flaring and settling into snapshots on the insides of his eyes. The faint curve of his stomach, chest shuddering, eyes lash-shuttered slits of blue. Toes curled, feet planted firmly to the mattress and half-buried in sheets, thighs pushed apart, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”   
  
“Yeah…need…can I…”  _Strained_ -sounding now, just from that. Makes Adam wonder how long Nathan waited, awake and counting down the minutes till he could call. It’s kind of a compliment. There’s the snick of a bottle being flipped open, muffled sound of a stifled groan; doesn’t take a genius to guess.   
  
“That’s it, sweetheart, push it in, curve it a little, nice and slow. All laid out and just waiting to get off, figured this all out, didn’t just call to see how I was or bother me, but ‘cause you can’t stand not getting fucked.” Nathan with that trust-me smile and those up-to-no-good eyes, stripped down to need and over-wired nerves and too strung out for games. “Want me to fuck you right now, don’t you? ‘s been a while, hasn’t it?”   
  
And Nathan’s stuttering out that  _yeah_ , it’s been a while, been too  _long_ , that he missed it,  _wants_  it, anything he says. Pretty much the  _only_  time anything in that vein is likely to pass Nathan’s lips without being a joke.  _Genuine_. Slips that second finger right on in alongside the first as soon as Adam gives the word. No secret to anyone who’s worked with him how Nathan loves getting abused, throws himself into his roles and stunts so he can poke at his bruises and pick at his scabs afterward, while everyone’s fawning over him for being so dedicated. Adam’s palm shifting, sliding down his own stomach, muscles tensing—yeah, good workout today, downtime well-deserved—thumbing at the waistband of his pants for a minute before pressing beneath.   
  
Calmly pressing the heel of his hand up between his legs, meditatively narrating the scene he’s picturing; Adam’s tone is as even as he can keep it. “All spread out for it, just a second away from fucking losing it all over yourself. Anyone could just walk in and see you like this, getting off with your own hand over a fucking  _phone_.” Not true in the least, seeing as Nathan’s in the privacy of his own home, but suspending disbelief in order to accommodate exhibitionism never hurt anyone. Spine curving, teeth meeting with a faint click, Adam’s fingers slipping around his own erection and  _tightening_ —hard and good and all at once, no point in drawing it out for himself as well as Nathan.   
  
In his mind, Nathan’s moved; spread on his stomach, rubbing against the mattress, making half-stifled little sounds and waiting to be  _told_  something. When he’s not picking silly fights, he’s a stickler for playing by the rules when they really matter. “Thought about trying something new, maybe,” words grating out of him low and calculated and so  _quietly_  he knows it’s torture for Nathan trying to keep himself quiet enough to hear them.   
  
“Y-yeah? What’d you…?”   
  
“Tying you up, fucking you that way, if you wanted…maybe get you in place so you’re on your knees…maybe just tell you not to move and not bother tying you at all, unless you wanted it.” Nathan can be obedient at the strangest times, pleasantly. Get him in place, stroke a hand down his spine and murmur for him not to move till he’s told, then just…turn on the TV and fuck him with a toy every now and again, really draw it out, stretch things on as long as he could handle. “Maybe use my fingers, maybe something bigger. Think you’d like that? Push something inside you, maybe a dildo, maybe a plug, and just have you keep it in for me. Have you making all those hot little sounds, till you’re soaking the fucking mattress and  _shaking_  from trying to keep still—yeah? Would you let me?”   
  
Pausing, gauging. Nothing from Nathan at first, then: “ _Fuck_.”   
  
 _Yeah_. “Then, if you waited nicely enough, I’d pull it out slowly,” and  _he’s_  starting to sound desperate now, words wrenching themselves out of his throat, but fucking A if he hasn’t  _thought_  about this—what it’d be like to have Nathan pushed up on all fours, aching and  _wanting_  it but remaining tractable just because Adam  _said_ to be. Trace a fingertip where he’s red and stretched open, just to work him up an extra notch or two, and then just clamp both hands over his hips and  _shove_  into him, hard and all at once—fuck, it’s not like he’s ever  _denied_  it when Nathan’s teased him about getting off on being in charge. “Have you all stretched open and ready for me like that, wouldn’t have to fuck you for more than about ten seconds,“ before he’s writhing and coming and  _screaming_  for him. Slickness against Adam’s fingers, thumb pressing over the tip of his cock, wetness smearing and pulsing out of him on every upstroke. “ _Shit_.” Doesn’t even notice at first that Nathan’s given up on keeping quiet.   
  
“Can’t say shit like—gotta—lemme,” trailing off and  _clearly_  hoping Adam picks up on it and fills in the blanks. “ _Please_?”   
  
“Yeah.” Letting licentiousness creep in fill that word up to the fucking  _brim_. “Go on. You want another one? Three fingers? Do it. Jerk off for me.”   
  
Nathan’s a fan of driving over the edge and going up in the biggest blaze possible, burns be damned. Adam remembers taking a shower and going back into the bedroom to find him curiously pressing fingers up inside himself even though he’d just gotten off, even though it’d been too soon for him to come again, and that had been such a blindingly red flag all he’d done at first was  _stare_. He’s since graduated to more productive reactions: finger-fucking him till he was pleading, eyes screwed shut and cock clenched in one hand,  _wanting_ to get hard but too soon and too sensitive, and then he’d come again anyway even though it took damn near an hour to wring it out of him and he’d practically  _cried_  for it. Another memorable time he woke up to Nathan sinking down on him even though he’d already screwed him once and it had to be painful for him, but he looked nothing but  _blissful_  about it. Head thrown back, body arcing and strained and  _clenching_  up  _every_ fuckingwhere, trying to keep himself in control and make it  _last_. Right up till he was sobbing out his release a  _second_  time and Adam was left with a mind-numbing orgasm and collapsed, shaking armful of  _Nathan_.   
  
Maybe it goes back to that thing about Nathan being too in touch with his younger self—tends to make him think he’s got more stamina and acrobatic capabilities than he actually does, but Adam’s not gonna mention that and throw a spoke in things.   
  
“Doing it? Touching yourself? Gonna come?” Workout pants shoved down and caught around both ankles, t-shirt long since pushed over his head and still hanging over the side of the window seat, and even though Adam’s on top of the covers the room feels almost volcanically  _hot_.   
  
“ _Adam_.” Practically  _keening_ ; enough to answer the question in and of itself. Shoving down onto his fingers, squirming into the grip he’s got on his cock, flushed and sweaty and  _decadent_. Adam doesn’t need to be there to know.   
  
Always so  _simple_. Just a few words needed to turn tables enough for Nate to lose his footing. And he never complains. Ever. Their own little system. Can tell he’s coming, each and every time, just from the way he wails and whimpers like a grade-A whore and can’t shut his mouth to save his life. “That’s it, Nate, let me hear it…”   
  
“A— _shit_. Fuck,  _Adam_ ,” and the last letter of his name draws out into a gasp-groan- _whine_  that makes Adam swear heatedly under his breath. Fist working over himself, pants kicked down and caught at his ankles, and he’s spilling hotwhite over his knuckles, lightheaded and not completely clear on what’s happening till he hears Nathan practically  _purring_.   
  
“Dirty yet? ‘Cause that sounded a lot like a yes.”   
  
“All this before you even get breakfast. Lazy ass.”   
  
“Fuck you.”   
  
“Maybe next time.”   
  
There’s the delighted, unbridled sound of that  _laugh_. Still a little breathless. “Noted and highlighted, sir. But, yeah, I’ve really gotta get on that breakfast thing now. Unless you want to some by and cook for me?”   
  
Make him come, then make him breakfast. The  _hell_. No one should be able to cultivate an entitlement complex this endearing. “I thought your cunning scheme was to get me dirty enough to take a shower, not save yourself a grocery bill.”   
  
“So maybe next time, then?” He can hear the triumphant grin in Nathan’s voice, like everything that just happened was part of some diabolical plan. “Tell Ami I said hi.” 


End file.
